Requiem For The Dead
by Krymsyn Vyxyn
Summary: When Riza Hawkeye visits her father's grave, she is encompassed by the fears and pain of her past. Will she be able to put it behind her and move forward?


- I've always wanted to write a story like this, it's just sometimes it's hard to get those creative juices flowing. Although I do enjoy reading my own work, I'm often very cynical about it and I always wonder how I can improve what I've written. That being said, reviews, both positive and negative, are greatly appreciated and considered. And as always, thank you for reading.

- Krysmyn Vyxyn

**Requiem For The Dead**

* * *

><p>Riza Hawkeye sighed heavily as she tightly gripped the metal bars of the cemetery gate. It had been quite some<p>

time since her last visit, yet every time she came it created a gut wrenching feeling and left her with bittersweet

memories that would play in her head for nights on end. The weathered gate squeaked as she gently pushed it

open and entered, her black heels clicking against the pavement as she began to walk towards the back of the

field. The crisp autumn air lightly ruffled her black dress skirt and matching trench coat, sending shivers down her

back and causing her to draw the fabric closer to her body for warmth. The soft colors of her auburn eyes

matched the variety of fall leaves that timidly swept around the gravestones that lined the endless stretch of

land in which they sat. Her breath hitched in her throat as she reached the familiar headstone that sat near the

middle, yet was isolated from the others, as if unwelcome by the other occupants. She knelt down and brushed

the dry leaves from the dark marble, a small smirk turning on her lips as she traced the name

engraved on the stone with her index finger. As she finished the last letter, the world around her

began to spin and was shrouded in imaginary mist, taking her aback and she struggled to remain upright. The

memories of her past overwhelmed her as they spontaneously ignited to life and flooded her mind, leaving her

numb from the confusing mix of anguish and comfort.

* * *

><p>She remembered the now deceased man clearly, from her childhood and continuing up to his dying days in her<p>

adolescence. The image of him was vivid and surreal, yet familiar and life like. He was a devoted man who strove

to extend his research and work, but was often negligent of his duties as a father and individual. Before her

mother had passed on, her father would venture out of his studies when Riza returned from school and sweep

her little body into his arms, carrying her through the house as she screamed with delight. After they ate dinner

as a family he would take her upstairs and let her help organize his books, explaining each one to her as her

eyes lit up with interest as she held it in her small hands. She would sit on his lap and listen for hours, amazed

by the fantastic drawings and creations that alchemy allowed. As time grew on, Riza's mother fell violently

ill and was bed ridden for weeks. Riza remembered her father spending all of his nights at her mother's bedside, weeping

uncontrollably as he firmly grasped her frail hands. Many times Riza would sit by his side, embracing her father

and holding her mother's hand as well. Soon, her body could no longer support her life form, and she

silently passed from the living world into the unknown.

* * *

><p>After her burial, her father seemed to shut inside of his self. He had changed from a warm and loving father to a<p>

complete stranger, never seeming to even notice Riza's presence in the house. Now, they only met when dinner

was ready, or he had an important message to be delivered to him. It saddened Riza to see her father slowly

deteriorating physically and emotionally, just as her mother had. Although she had grown accustomed to his lack

of parenting, it tore her apart to see him forsaking his own health and reminding her of her mother's similar fate.

His once beautiful golden locks grew thin and shown with grey as his facial features became sunken and covered

with rough and wiry hair. He drank heavily and exhausted himself with his work, many times simply passing out

at his desk then waking up and diving right back into his notes that were slowly driving him to the point of no

return. As the years went by the man's life light grew dim and it made an uneasy feeling settle on his shoulders.

He worked longer and harder to complete his project, hoping to reach the end of his work before his life.

* * *

><p>It wasn't until late one night that the man finally sat back with a sigh of relief as his work was finished; now all<p>

he needed to do was make sure he left it in the right hands. As he gathered his notes and his drawings

together, he called his young daughter up to his study. Her timid eyes widened in fright as she entered the dark

and musty room. To the side of her, she noticed a new addition to the room, a small wooden table that had a

brown leather strap attached to each corner. She began to tremble with fear as the stranger beckoned her over

to him. Nimbly she obeyed and he lifted her to the table as he ordered her to remove her shirt. Too afraid to

protest, she did as she was told, lying down on her stomach out of embarrassment in

the state she was in. She squeezed her eyes shut as her father loomed over her, his voice and gaze cold and

emotionless. A small cry escaped her lips as the rough material tightened around her wrists and legs. After

securing her to the table he demanded she remain still, threatening her that if she moved the punishment

would be harsh and far worse than she could ever imagine. She was his only template with which he had one

chance, and he knew it. Her screams pierced the night air as the needle did the same to the skin on her back,

and she frantically dug her nails into the wood to refrain from moving. When he had finished he complimented his

work as he released his distraught daughter from his torture. Ignoring her shirt he held out to her, she ran past

him to the bathroom, clutching her arms to her chest. Once inside, she wept bitterly as she observed the red

array on her back that her father had placed upon her. She was permanently scarred with his burden, and it

broke her heart to have the evidence of his shortened life on her back. She would never forgive him for the

torment he had bestowed upon her, not ever. She refused to forgive him even when he died, when he died…

* * *

><p>A snapping twig behind her drew her out of her mental prison and she instinctively whirled around, hand on her<p>

holster, ready to face whoever it was. She stopped short as she locked her amber eyes with onyx ones, and she

slowly lowered her half drawn weapon. "I thought I might find you here." The tension escaped her body as a man's

warm voice soothed her nerves. As his eyes searched hers for reassurance, she quickly withdrew her gaze from

him, afraid he might notice the brim of tears that threatened to pour down her face at any given moment. All too

familiar with her posture, he took a spot beside her, his mind searching for any possible words to say to her for

comfort. When nothing came, he gently pulled her into a hug, stroking her hair and allowing her to cry on him if

she chose to do so. As he began to feel her sobbing into his chest he spoke to her. "It's alright Riza. I know

you're confused on how to feel, you don't know if you should be upset or angry." She nodded softly as she pulled

away from him, her eyes red and puffy from her outburst. "It's hard to convey my feelings. As a child he was so

supportive and loving. I was always happy to see him; I looked up to him, I…I trusted him. After my mother died

he changed into this mad and calloused man, he isolated himself away from me. The only time I ever felt needed

by him was when he used me for this curse." She motioned to her back with her last statement and he nodded

in understanding. "But with your curse you've given an immeasurable gift Riza, one that is more cherished and

appreciated than you could ever imagine. One that I am forever in your debt for." He squeezed her hand and inhaled

sharply as he added his last thought. "If it weren't for your father's doing, I wouldn't have you by my side. And without you

by my side well…I would be nothing." His eyes began to mist over as he looked down at the fragile woman next

to him. Rarely had he seen this side of her, and it served to remind him that she was capable of feeling such pain

and suffering.

* * *

><p>As she looked up into his eyes, a mutual thankfulness was established between the two adults. Each one was<p>

equally grateful for the other and it seemed to make them feel at peace despite their dreary surroundings. She

returned a small smile he was openly displaying on his face and she turned on her heels to face him fully. "Thank

you Roy." He accepted this with another small hug and they both turned to glance at the stone before them.

After a moment of silence, they began back towards to the gate that imprisoned the inhabitants within. "Maybe

I'll never know how to react to my father's death. But as long you're with me, I know I'll never have to go about

it alone." "You never will Riza, just know that we both are always watching over you." They exchanged smiles as

they walked through the open gates. As they slammed shut the sound resonated through the air, slowly fading

away into the dusk along with the uneasiness in Riza's heart. For the first time in a long time she felt appreciated

and needed. As she took one last glance back into the cemetery she silently thanked her father, and with a new

boost of strength she inwardly forgave her father. He who had cursed, yet blessed her, so very long ago.


End file.
